


Ode to the Weak, Sad, and Broken

by angstony



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Dark Tony Stark, God Complex, M/M, Obsession, Superior Iron Man, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstony/pseuds/angstony
Summary: Tony Stark is perfect; unfortunately, there's one thing that's stopping him from completely believing that. Or, rather, it's a someone.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Ode to the Weak, Sad, and Broken

Tony had long ago found out that being still was a difficult task for him; his fingers were always twitching, his mind flitting from one issue to the next, the desire to help and find new ways to improve, fix, and protect the people and those around him deeply embedded into his being. He’d grown long used to the incessant stream of clamoring ideas in his head, inspecting, discarding, and even reinventing the numerous designs endlessly until he’d made them even better than before. Sometimes, sleep eluded him when his active mind absorbed all of his attention, his body restless and ill at ease until he was in his lab, purging and proving to himself that these ideas couldn’t possibly work—until they did. The itch to do something often started from his fingertips before slowly spreading, consuming him whole like tinder set on fire. It burned in his blood, urging him into action before long—his thirst for knowledge and his desire to be useful demanded that he slake it.

Being motionless was a task near impossible for Tony… Until it wasn’t.

He sat quietly within his lab, back pressed against the chair he’d set himself down in. The deep hum of machinery surrounded him, cocooning him in a cacophony of noises that Tony had always found solace and soothing in. He sat still and silent, the only hint that he wasn’t a statue hewn from stone was the slight rise and fall of his chest as he took careful, measured breaths. Though his eyes were open, they were distant, his thoughts occupied and fully immersed in them—for the first time in a long, long time, his mind was clear. Everything was organized, filed away, quiet. Tony could finally remain still, could see the stretch of road spread before him and he regarded it with mild amusement, welcoming it with open arms.

The corner of his lip quirked up as he let out a soft laugh, the poison and contemptuous pity embedded deep within that gentle sound unmistakable. Protecting, helping, loving the people? The laugh that left his lips again abruptly twisted into a faint snarl as he breathed in.

Pathetic.

The answers had been before Tony the entire time, and yet, his former self had been too weak, too sad, too broken to see it. He’d been too pathetic to understand. Now, without his crippling guilt to torment him and feed the dark demons that had plagued him since the very beginning, Tony was free. He was free, and he was perfect. It was everyone else that was weak, sad, and broken now. Tony had found the answers, he was no longer the pathetic, sniveling alcoholic of a man he’d been before. Caring for people, protecting them, loving them. It was all a weakness. Without such feelings and obligations, he was no longer suffering from under the suffocating weight of trauma, guilt, and tragedy. The torturous routine of wondering what he could have done better wasn't his anymore. He wasn't drowning underwater, held down by a chain and ball forged of disappointments, expectations, and insecurities. There was no need to question himself or his abilities; Tony was no longer weak, pathetic, or a failure of a human being. No longer useless.

Tony was perfect. Nothing was holding him back anymore, he could fix humanity. He could teach them to be strong, happy, and immortal; he knew that he was superior to all others with his newfound knowledge, he was a god merely playing as a human. It was no mystery why he’d had so much trouble before—however, there was one person that contradicted all that he’d learned about himself and about humanity. One person who he simply couldn’t understand. Someone that even he couldn’t get rid of nor bring himself to stop caring for. A person who was a danger to everything that Tony had come to stand for and had learned. His one weakness.

His lip curled into a grim line as a flash of blond hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen appeared in his mind’s eyes. The man was always smiling so brightly at him whenever he thought of him, warm, caring, and disgustingly good. Despite Tony's gut curling contemptuously at the thought of him, something clutched at his heart painfully tight, squeezing simultaneously.

Tony thought that his chest would split open at the thought of Steve Rogers, his thought suddenly unorganized and loud, emotions battering against each other in his head; anger, disgust, curiosity, and worst of all, love. Tony’s teeth set upon his lip in a glower, eyes narrowing as he slammed his fist down onto the desk in cold fury. What was this? His mind knew, logically, that this was a weakness. His mind had already categorized Steve Rogers as a risk and a threat that could quite potentially be his undoing. His mind knew, and he’d already deduced that he would need to eliminate Steve Rogers, however, something reacted violently to his rational thoughts. A bolt of pain struck into his chest as he felt something inside of him twist and near break at the thought of Steve no longer existing.

Tony’s eyes hardened as he clenched his jaw, his teeth near grinding against each other as he clenched his hand, nails biting crescent-shaped marks into the flesh of his palm. His gaze was baleful and fixated against the far wall, knuckles whitening against the force he was exerting on his fist. Damn Steve Rogers. Who was he to be the flaw, the weakness to Tony’s design, to his perfection? What was he? What was it about him that Tony couldn’t seem to let go and brush off as easily as the others? Baring his teeth silently, a puff of air hissed out past his sharp grimace, anger clouding his mind. Tony couldn’t rid the world of Steve Rogers. He could hardly rid himself of Steve Rogers. There was something about him, something that Tony simply couldn’t figure out, no matter how much he tried. Something held Tony to him—there was little doubt in Tony’s mind that with one slip up, he would be like a moth that had been burned by fire, helplessly drawn to the light it gave despite knowing the harm that would come its way.

Eventually, Tony’s eyes grew thoughtful as he slowly settled down, peeling away one loud thought at a time. He carefully pushed each back into its place as he mulled over what answers he did and didn’t have. There had to be a logical explanation for this. Tony couldn’t be in love with Steve, that was a weakness, and Tony was already perfect. He had no weakness. He had to be deluding himself when he thought that he loved Steve Rogers. He sucked in another sharp, shuddering breath before he focused on releasing the tension in his body. There was no use getting angry and twisted out of sorts. It wouldn’t help him figure out what was going on within the tumultuous whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling around his head, or what held him so tightly to Steve. Each steadying breath helped him loosen his fingers one by one, the hand that had been clenched into a fist slowly flattening on the cool desk before him once more. There had to be something logical about this, rather than emotional. Tony set his teeth against his lip as he continued his derailed train of thought.

Steve was… He was flawed. He was so obviously flawed, he cared for the people, he loved them, he wanted to help them and shelter them, just not the correct way. Despite that, Tony couldn’t help but admire Steve. There had been some similarities between him and Steve in the past. They’d both cared so much, and the older, more pathetic version of him had idolized Steve for it. Tony’s fingers tapped against the table in a sharp staccato, annoyance surging through him. Still, things were different now. Things were different, and yet, why hadn’t his feelings about Steve disappeared with his flaws? Surely, this… this insistence and his obsession with Steve was a flaw, he’d been so sure that all of his flaws had disappeared with his change.

Tony paused.

Perhaps that was the answer. Steve was flawed, definitely, however, if Tony could convince him… Perhaps Steve was another person that Tony thought could join him in this world of perfection, the utopia he envisioned. Steve was the peak of humanity, perfect and flawless in such regards. Tony already knew Steve was willing to make sacrifices, do what he thought he needed to do to reap the best effects of whatever his goal was. He was a strategist, a risk-taker. A hero. If Tony could convince him to see things his way, Tony knew that Steve would be a worthwhile ally. He was a man worthy to take part in what Tony considered his grand plan for the saving of the world. Only Tony could save the world from the broken, the sad, and the weak. Despite this, every god had a soldier that was devoted to the cause—that was devoted to him. Something settled rather comfortably in his chest at the thought of Steve taking his rightful place by Tony’s side, devoted and loyal to him and their cause.

A slow smile overtook Tony’s lips as the irritated tapping of fingers lessened, the cool wood pressing against his fingertips as he rested his hand on the table. He treated it as if it was an anchoring point for his chaotic thoughts as everything began to settle. Yes, that had to be the reason, the reason for Tony’s desire and his rebelling instincts whenever he thought to get rid of Steve to achieve his goals. The smile on his lips curled further up into a faint smirk, his mind straying from his initial thoughts as he pulled up the image of Steve’s broad shoulders, his long legs, and his tapered waist. His mind wandered down the muscled length of Steve's arms, drifting to his large hands before moving back up to the hard planes of his chest and stomach rippling through his tight shirt. Tony imagined the sweep of his back, his gaze focusing in on the curves of Steve's ass, his smirk growing more lascivious. Steve was admittedly handsome and while Tony was perhaps a newly realized god that would be the savior of the world, he had needs.

He definitely wouldn’t mind if those needs were handled by Steve. Tony shook himself out of those thoughts, returning once more to his original plan. Convincing Steve wouldn’t be easy. Steve was stubborn and determined, and frankly, it was two traits that Tony couldn’t fault him for and admired. Having Steve for an enemy could be deadly, but as an ally, they would be unstoppable. He pondered his thoughts, mulling over ways on how to convince Steve. Good was a matter of perspective; to do good, there always needed to be a sacrifice, and Tony was more than certain that Steve would understand this. After all, both he and Steve had made great sacrifices for their shared but unfortunately misguided cause. In Tony’s eyes, however, the loss of his demons and his guilt wasn’t a great sacrifice. Sacrificing his humanity had turned him into a god. He could now save the world, and not only that, he’d achieve it with Steve Rogers. He’d have everything that his older, past-self had coveted but been too weak to take for his own.

The only issue was still, of course, getting Steve to agree with him and seeing the bigger picture. Tony felt an amused smile color his lips once more. The angel Michael had been God’s soldier in the Catholic tales the so-called Bible liked to speak of. Steve would become Tony’s Michael. Tony sighed and stretched as he pursed his lips, an unwelcome thought straying into his mind. He’d have to be careful. Steve wasn’t afraid to do what was necessary for what he thought was right, and if Tony couldn’t convince him, he’d be a mighty adversary. Tony sighed. He didn’t want to have to do it, but if necessary, he would find a way to convince Steve with other means. He would save Steve. Steve, of all people, deserved to be saved. Tony was just as determined and stubborn as the other man could be, and Tony had decided he was going to reach out and take what was now his.

A god only deserved the best, after all. The best soldier. Another being who would become Tony’s most trusted, his angel. His Michael. A smirk settled over his lips as the satisfactory thought sent ripples of contentment through him. Yes, this was the way that Tony would go. He would do whatever it took to achieve his own goals, and Steve was among them. It was simple.

If Steve didn’t want to listen, he would make him.

Tony stood up slowly, a brief glint of silver flashing before it suddenly spread in an instant, rapidly crawling over and covering his skin, fitting onto his body like a second skin. The liquid armor moved as if it was an extension of his body as Tony closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling. The armor seemed to swallow him up in gleaming silver until finally, the armor framed his head and jaw, leaving his face exposed. An eerie blue glow settled on the center of his chest, and slowly, Tony opened his eyes as a chilling smile that could freeze blood settled on his lips, wicked and confident.

Tony was a god. Perfection defined. Flawless. He was Superior Iron Man. He would save the world, with Steve by his side.

His eyes glowed the same eerie blue.


End file.
